


Overprotective Scary Fuckers

by brotherfuckers



Series: Striderclan [11]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drug Dealing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protectiveness, Scary fuckers, Stridercest - Freeform, drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brotherfuckers/pseuds/brotherfuckers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D gets a call from Bro while Bro is at a gig asking for a ride and back up. He’s been drugged. All three brothers at home go after him and find a gang trying to exact revenge for a drug deal gone sour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overprotective Scary Fuckers

D rolls his eyes when his phone rings, the obnoxious Sesame Street jingle blaring out of the tiny speaker. “What do you want, Bro?”

“Uh... I need a ride.” The loud background noise and slurring of his words made it difficult to figure out what he is saying.

“Are you drunk?”

“Just... come pick me up.”

“What’s the magic word?” D teases in a singsong voice.

“Bring back... up... I think... someone drugged me.”

“What?” No answer, just loud music. “Bro? Where are you?” No response. “Fucking hell, Bro. Not a joke.” Nothing. “Bro! Bro! Derrick!” At this point D is at the edge of his seat yelling into the phone. Giving up on that, he hangs up and leaps to his feet scrambling to grab the car keys. He notices both Dave and Dirk coming out of their room, curious about the outburst.

“D. What’s up?”

“I don’t know. Bad shit. Do either of you know where Bro is?”

“He had a gig tonight. But you know how he is. Doesn’t tell anyone where he’s gonna be,” Dirk answers.

“Fuck. I need to find him. Trouble.”

There is a loud chime from Dirk’s pocket and he fishes out his phone. “Hey, Hal says that there are tweets about DJ Puppet Freak at a place called Halo.”

“Fuck. Why did he go to that skivvy place? Fuck.” D manages to find his keys. “Get to the car, both of you.” When he glances up he sees Dave holding two sheathed katanas, his own already across his back. Red eyes flash dangerously. Dirk is already at the door, pulling it open. The stairs ring out with heavy footsteps as the three of them rush down. They get on the road faster than should be possible.

“D. More information,” Dirk demands as D weaves through traffic.

“I don’t have much. Bro called, sounded drunk, asked for a ride, then told me to bring back up because he might have been drugged.”

“Bro doesn’t drink at his gigs. Says that it takes away from the music. He only takes water,” Dirk informs.

“Shit. Then he was drugged because he sounded MLP marathon drunk. Fuck. Get out of my way, you fuckers!” D yells at the other cars on the road even as he blows through a stale yellow light. He continues to curse at traffic as both Dirk and Dave fall silent.

“Up here. Keep your eyes out,” D informs them as he turns down a street.

There is a small crowd of people hanging out on the street. Some are standing in line to the place in question and some are walking along the sidewalk. D pulls up to the valet guy. Dave passes Dirk’s sword to him inside the car as D gets out of the car to handle the approaching guy.

“I need you to leave this car alone. I will pay you a hundred bucks- here, here is a hundred dollar bill just to not touch this car.” The guy takes the money with a sense of awe. His eyes go wide when Dave passes D his katana. “Oh, don’t call the police. At least. Not yet. Here’s another hundred.” He tosses the bill at him, not really caring to see if he caught it or not. He turns back to his younger brothers. “I’ll check inside. You two search out here.”

With simultaneous nods the two head in different directions to find Bro.

D confidently walks up to the bouncer at the door, completely ignoring the line along the side of the building. He goes directly to the door even as the bouncer gets to his feet off of his stool.

“Excuse me,” a deep baritone voice rolls out. “Didja not see the line behind ya.”

“Saw it. Don’t care.” D has to pause only because the large man managed to get between him and the door.

“Who the fuck d’ya think ya are?”

“D Strider. You might recognize the name.” Dark red eyes meet black ones and watch as recognition sparks.

“Holy shit. D fucking Strider at my door.”

“Good to see you have some taste. Now. I need to get inside.”

“Sure. Sure. Please. Have a good time, Mr. Strider.” D rolls his eyes at the honorific but doesn’t waste any more time as the large man steps aside.

As soon as the door opens, D is hit by loud club music -some of Bro’s stuff- and the stale stench of alcohol, smoke, and body sweat typical of dance clubs. Immediately D goes to the DJ booth but finds it empty. The music must be on one of his auto-playlists. D turns around and scans the crowd but doesn’t see the familiar blonde anywhere. With a curse under his breath, he goes over to the nearest bar. Shoving forward to the front he shouts at the bartender.

“Where is the DJ?”

“I don’t know. Like I pay attention.”

“Well find someone who does know and did pay attention.”

“Dude. Can’t you see I’m swamped.”

There is a flash of metal and a metallic thunk. The bartender and surrounding crowd took a full step back away from the katana now lodged in the bar’s surface. When the scream of the girl next to him stops, D demands, “Find me someone who last saw the DJ.”

“Who served Puppet Freak last?” D does not let the internal groan at his brother’s chosen name come out when the bartender shouts down to the rest of the staff.

“I did!” A spunky redhead answers as she finishes making up three drinks.

“Good. Get down here and talk to this fucker.” D doesn’t argue the moniker.

“Whad’ya need?”

“You served the DJ?”

“Yea. Asked for his usual bottled water. Handed it to ‘em about thirty min ago.”

“Anything unusual about the drink? Did you pour it into anything?”

“What? Uh no. Don’t think so. Wait. It was wet. Like it had been leakin’. Why?”

“Did you see him leave the booth?”

“Uh... ‘bout five, maybe ten min ago. Thought he stepped out for a smoke or somethin’, but he’s not back yet. Maybe he found a good lay.”

“Where did he go?”

“Out back prolly. Down the hall. Only door to the right.”

D pulls his sword free from the bar and bolts through the crowd. He has to weave around drunken patrons more concerned with sticking their tongues down each other’s throats then any semblance of privacy but thankfully no one is blocking the door.

The fresh clean air is a blessing but the immediate area around the door is empty. There is movement at one end of the alley as Dave approaches quickly.

“He ain’t inside?”

D shakes his head.

“Sword’s out,” Dave notes.

“Needed some persuasion. He exited here less than ten minutes ago.”

“Didn’t head in my direction. Dirk’s checkin’ farther down the street.” He starts walking past D to the other end of the alley with D falling into step behind him. They both break into a run when they hear the all too familiar sound of an impact upon flesh. Dave gets to the corner of a connecting alley first, nearly skidding at the turn. D catches the ring of metal as Dave draws his sword at whatever he found. D reaches that point a second later as the brick gives way to a view of a group of men loosely encircling something. D instantly picks out the signature blonde hair and white polo of his brother slumped against the wall. One of the strangers throws another punch which sends Bro to his knees.

“Now that’s a good position for ya,” the man drawls out, his voice echoing down the hall with a following smattering of laughter that happens to mask Dave’s furious footsteps. The man goes to speak again but is cut short by a flash of red and blonde as Dave leaps at him. D both fears and hopes that Dave used the sharp end of his sword but as he arrives two seconds later to the stunned party, he watches Dave take out one of the spectators with a reversed blow, jamming the hilt of his katana across the man’s jaw. D takes down another with a blow to the back of the head as the men finally start to take action. Some try to fight back, but what chance do they really have against two protective Striders. A couple of them try to flee but Dave cuts one on the leg and knocks another one out, while D grabs the third and throws him up against the wall next to where Bro had been pinned.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” D growls at the only man not unconscious or screaming in pain.

“Fuck fuck fuck fu-” D backhands him to get him to shut up.

“What the fuck were you doing?”

“He fucked up a sale. At a club. In the bathrooms. We had a deal goin’ wit a good PNC when-”

“PNC?”

“Potential new client. We had been workin’ on this kid for a while, and he was finally gonna buy. But this asshole of a DJ,” the idiot tilts his head towards Bro, “comes in on his piss break and blows the whole thin’. Grabs the drugs and flushes it down the toilet before we could even move.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad.”

“It was nearly three grand worth. A cocktail package that woulda hooked him good for all of his buys. Him and his friends. We would have been set. But no, the drugs are gone and then he scares off the mark! The kid hasn’t even picked up his usual pansy shit order since then and that was weeks ago.”

“Bro’s- I mean, Puppet Freak’s last show?”

“Holy shit, he’s your brother? Y’all are scary fuckers! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!”

D backhands the dealer once more, knocking him unconscious, and lets the body fall to the ground. He turns back to where Dave is already caring for Bro. He is kneeling in front of where Bro has fallen, gently cradling the elder’s head against his chest.

“How is he?”

“Fine. I’ve given him more of a beating than they managed. He’s just out of it from the drugs.” Bro nuzzles against Dave at the sound of his voice. “Bro. Hey Bro. Smile up at your big brother for me. Show him you’re alright.” Slowly and lazily, Bro swings his head away from Dave and with bleary eyes finds D standing nearby. A wide silly grin spreads over his face, pushing up the already swollen cheek.

“Hiya Dick.”

“Okay yea, he’s fine.” D leans down and picks up Bro’s dirtied hat and glasses, finding them only a little worse for wear. “Let’s get him to his feet.” Together they manage to get him up and leaning heavily on both of their shoulders. D manages to fish out his phone to call Dirk. “We found him. Wait by the car and we’ll be right there.”

With stumbling feet the trio somehow makes it around to the front of the club. Dirk straightens up from leaning against the car to take D’s place while he unlocks the car and opens the door. Dirk frisks Bro for his keys before they lay him out across the back seat.

“Someone hurt him, D. Where are they?” Dirk demands as soon as Dave climbs in with Bro’s head resting in his lap.

“They’ve been taken care of.” D notes the rage in Dirk’s shaking fists at his side. “Sorry you didn’t get your piece in. They would have deserved another round of beating.”

“Why?” Dirk manages to bite out.

“Because people are stupid.” He pulls Dirk into a tight hug as a full body shudder goes through him. “It’s okay, Dirk. He’s okay. We got him. He’s safe. Scared the bloody fuck out of us, but we got him. We’ll give him a beating that he’ll actually care about for being so careless.” Dirk clings to him for a moment, hiding the emotions on his face in D’s shirt. They stand that way for a moment until the valet guy coughs politely.

“Um... do I need to call the police yet?”

“Nah, the worse they’ll have are some headaches and maybe that one guy will need stitches but he could still walk to the ER if he needed to.”

“Alright.” He shuffles nervously away.

“Come on, Dirk. You good to drive Bro’s car home?” D pulls him away to look at his face. Dirk nods back at him. “Good. Let’s get everyone home.” Dirk clicks Bro’s car lock and locates the car just down the street. D watches him until he pulls away and heads for home before getting into his own car. He glances into the back seat and finds Dave gently petting Bro’s hair while Bro giggles. “He alright?”

“He keeps poking his bruises and laughing at them.”

“Right.” He draws out the word. “I have no idea what that means.”

“He’s fine. Just take us home, Jeeves.”

“Right away, sir.” D pulls away from the curb.

D takes the drive home a lot easier than on the way there. He glances back once when the giggles cut out to see Dave leaning over and kissing Bro quiet. Dirk is waiting for them at the apartment’s parking lot and helps the other two get Bro out of the car and into the elevator, the stairs considered a lost cause. Somehow they successfully get him into the apartment and laying on the futon. D lowers the back while Dirk puts the swords away and Dave wrestles Bro’s shoes off. Dave immediately curls up into Bro’s side as the other two fuss around the apartment to finish up whatever tasks they dropped and burn off the residual adrenalin from the incident.

When Dirk finally collapses on Bro’s other side, D calls the club up and gets a guarantee that no one will touch DJ Puppet Freak’s set up in return for them to claim that they were visited by D Strider. As soon as he hangs up the phone he also finds himself on the couch tucked in behind Dirk, pulling up a blanket over the four of them.

D shivers slightly when he thinks back to the scene in the alley. As badass as Bro is, the way Bro had been drugged left him unable to fend off his attackers scares him. What would have happened had they not found him? What if they had gotten there too late? They were late enough as is. He tightens his arms around Dirk’s waist. What if similar things happen to Dirk or Dave? He tries to pacify the thoughts by breathing in Dirk’s hair but his breath is ragged with emotion.

Dirk squirms around to face D. Without saying a word, he strokes D’s cheek and leans in for a sweet comforting kiss. D shudders as the tension leaves his body under Dirk’s touch. Dirk continues the kiss until D is completely relaxed.

“It’s okay, D. We’re safe,” Dirk echoes his words back to him. “We’ll talk about this in the morning. For now, we’re safe and together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep.”

“Both of you, shut the fuck up and go to sleep,” Dave murmurs from Bro’s other side. With soft grins they snuggle down and bask in each other’s presence. Safe.

**Author's Note:**

> For more information please check out our work at striderclan.tumblr.com; we have more stories, head canons, art/pictures.


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